Life As We Know It
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: A series of one-shots set around my 'Promise of A Best Friend' universe.
1. Worry

Melissa Brielle-Renae Jackson blinked tiredly as she hummed along with the mellow sound of _Poison and Wine _by The Civil Wars and made quick work of folding the baby blue onesie in her hands. She dropped it on top of the other baby clothes in the white laundry basket and pushed the laundry basket to the side. She stood up and reached for the laundry basket of towels and blankets, propping it against her hip and holding it with one hand while she opened the washer with the other hand. She unceremoniously emptied the basket into the washer and added some laundry detergent before slamming it shut and turning the knob. The gush of hot water filling the washer drowned out the dulcet guitar spilling out of her iPod dock station.

"Baby girl," Jackson's sleepy voice startled her and she nearly jumped out of her own skin at the sound of her husband's voice. She dropped the laundry basket and nearly tripped over her own two feet, obviously not quite alert enough to be aware of her surroundings. His hoarse laugh mixed roughly with the sound of the gushing water and the music that had momentarily broken the still silence of the room. He made his way over to her and in one fluid movement, grabbed the laundry basket and lifted his wife up with his other arm, gently dropping her on the washing machine. "Baby girl, what are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." Melissa pouted despite the fact that her eyelids drooped with exhaustion and the dark circles under eyes disputed her claim of insomnia.

"Sweetheart," Jackson cradled her head in his hands and kissed her temple tenderly. "What's really going on?"

"Still a bad liar, eh?" Melissa looked at her husband skeptically.

"Very. Twenty-six years and you still doubt my ability to tell when you're lying." Jackson laughed, reminding his wife that he had known her since they were both babies.

Melissa dropped her head onto her husband's shoulder, reveling the warmth of her husband. They had been best friends since birth, nearly twenty-seven years now. The strong friendship had made their marriage much easier; knowing that she actually genuinely liked the person she was marrying had made the life-long commitment much easier to enter into. That said, she sometimes forgot that he did know her, better than she knew herself most of the time and could tell pretty easily when she was lying.

"Mom." Melissa breathed into his t-shirt.

"What happened?" Jackson asked her softly, stroking her hair gently. "Talk to me, baby?"

"It's been twelve years since everything happened with Mom and her alcoholism." Melissa's eyes clouded with residual anger both at her mother and at the situation that her mother had put them in. "She calls me and tells me that she wants to see Alex. Twelve years, she wants nothing to do with me unless it benefits her...and now all of a sudden she wants to see Alex. She thinks I can't tell she hasn't stopped drinking? She thinks I don't know that her latest boy toy called and asked Dad to send him a list of rehabs that could help her?"

"He did what?" Jackson looked down at his wife in shock.

"Yeah," Melissa looked up at him, her eyes glassy with tears. "Her little boyfriend, Paul, I think his name is called Dad. Paul's the only boyfriend that's even tolerable. He's not even her boyfriend I don't think, just a friend. Anyway, he called Dad and asked him for a list of rehab centers out of state. He thinks that if he can get her out of California he can sober her up."

"Sounds like he wants to help her." Jackson noted, waiting for his wife to continue.

"That's not the point, Jackson!" Melissa snapped, trying to hide the tears streaming down her face. "The point is, my alcoholic mother wants to see Alex and the thought of letting her anywhere near him makes me hate her even more."

"Melissa!" Jackson scolded her gently, taking her face in his hands and tilting her head up to meet her eyes. "Hey, you listen to me now. You do not hate your mother. You might hate what she is and what she's done but you do _not _nor have you ever hated her."

"Jackson..." Melissa whimpered, closing her eyes.

"Baby, we've been through this." Jackson whispered softly, kissing her forehead. "Alex is our son. Ours. If you don't want her around him then she won't be."

"I don't." Melissa reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. "I don't."

"I know." Jackson nodded in understanding, releasing her. He wrapped his arm around her, gathering her against his chest and gently stroking her hair with the other hand. She relaxed easily, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. He kissed her head and soothed the tension from her body; "C'mon, babe, Alex will be up in a few hours. You haven't been sleeping as it is and if you don't sleep now, you won't be in any mood to get up at six with a cranky and hungry three month old."

"Laundry..." Melissa motioned to the still running washing machine and the basket of laundry she had yet to wash.

"It can wait until later." Jackson shook his head, nuzzling his face into her hair. "You need sleep. You're stressed and exhausted."

"Okay.." Melissa hummed, her breathing slowing down and evening out as the peaceful abyss of unconsciousness pulled her in. "Love you."

"I love you too, silly girl."

He gently lifted her up into his arms, cradling her against him and carried her out of the laundry room and up the stairs. He tucked her into bed and quietly left the room to turn the light off in the laundry room and grab her iPod from her dock station. He turned her iPod off, set it next to her cell phone on the table by the door and snuck back upstairs. He peeked in on his son and found the little boy wiggling restlessly around in his crib.

"Hey, little man." Jackson rubbed his son's head with his fingertips. "Go back to sleep. Mommy needs some sleep."

He marveled at the brown silk beneath his fingers and the dark sapphire eyes that stared back at him with such innocence, Jackson just knew that both him and Melissa would be protective parents. He already knew Melissa was, if her outburst in the laundry room was any indication. He smiled tenderly as his son settled and the dark blue orbs were hidden behind his pale eyelids; eyelashes forming dark crescents against chubby cheeks.

"Goodnight little man." Jackson smiled, rubbing his son's one more time before pulling his hand away. "Love you."

xxx

"Good morning, Alex."

With the utmost care, Melissa picked up her three month old and carried him over to the dresser that stood against the opposite wall. She pulled open the top drawer and grabbed a nursing blanket and a towel before making her way to the rocking chair and settling in to feed her hungry son. She popped the first few buttons of her blouse and carefully adjusted her son against her breast. She covered her nursing son with the blanket and tossed the towel over her shoulder.

"Alex, you have a grandma that you've never met before." Melissa murmured to her son, stroking his head tenderly. "She wasn't around much for Mommy and she has a few problems. I'm afraid to let her come near you but I'm also afraid you'll grow up thinking I kept her from you. I don't want you to ever think that I kept her from you. If you ever feel that way, well then I'll tell you my reasons."

Jackson leaned against the wall outside the door, just out Melissa's view and listened to his wife talk to their three month old. Alexander Richard Jackson was going to be a well-loved little kid but to hear Melissa express these fears also brought about the real possibility that his relationship with his only living grandmother would be virtually non-existent. That was unless by some miracle, Sandra Wu decided to straighten her act up, which Jackson found highly unlikely. Yes, he had Melissa's father Evan and Jackson's adoptive parents, Auntie Bel and Uncle Pat, but the question of would that be enough lingered in his mind.

"You have me and Daddy," His wife's voice brought him back to reality. "You have Grandpa Evan. Auntie Bel and Uncle Pat. You have Uncle Ian and Aunt Jory. I think you're going to be just fine, kiddo."

"He is, Mel. He is." He whispered.

And as he peeked in to watch his wife nurse Alex, he couldn't help but think that even if his son didn't have all of his grandparents, he would still be loved. The intensity with which Melissa loved the bright eyed little boy was unmatched. She was so fiercely protective of him - of both of them, really - that the thought of her mother coming around with her boy-toys and her alcohol was enough to infuriate Melissa to the point of hatred.

They'd be just fine.

He was sure of it.


	2. Fifty

_ "Age is an issue of mind over matter. _

_ If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." _

_ - Mark Twain._

* * *

Time had aged her in the most graceful and beautiful of ways. In such a way that Cody Jackson found that he wouldn't change a thing about her. Her countenance is just as beautiful as to him now as it was when he was sixteen, living in a foster facility and still falling head over heels in love with her. His sweet Melissa turned fifty years old today. Her cheeks have softened; they're a bit ruddier with a barest hints of a cherry flush blossoming along the age softened line of her cheekbones. Her almond-shaped brown eyes are still dark, sparkling with the same vibrance he had seen in them thirty-four years ago when they were still sixteen. When her plump mouth curved upward into the mega-watt smile he looked forward to seeing on a daily basis, laugh-lines crinkle the corners and mark years of sharing blissful laughter with her husband. Her once waist length hair has been cut off to a more manageable length. A soft, layered cut that fell just below her shoulder blades, the shorter layers framing her face, flirty curls bouncing against her shoulders when she moved.

Her skin is still beautiful, her olive complexion remaining even as she aged, even as the sleek smoothness of her graceful limbs has become prone to the aging process. Her hip bones are less prominent, her figure filling out nicely into an hour-glass figure; the tender bell shape of her hips curving upward into a slender waist and a flat stomach. The years she had spent in the throes of pregnancy and motherhood have been kind to her. Her curvier, softer figure was preferred to the stick-thin shape that most women revered. His arms fit around her more comfortably when she was curvier and the softness of her body had been the source of a great deal of pleasure for him.

She's perched on the porch swing that overlooked their front yard, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill of an unusually cold autumn night in California. He poured two glasses of red wine and carried them outside along with the bottle; "Hey Sweetheart."

Her brown eyes sparkle and her lips curve upward in a beautiful smile that never failed to knock him breathless. She raised the blanket and patted the seat behind her on the swing, motioning for him to join her. She took the glass of red wine from his hand and waited for him to sit down before curling into his side and wrapping the blanket around both of them. He smiled as the familiar scent of his wife and the warmth of the blanket surrounded him. It was these few moments of serenity that they had both come to appreciate as they reached ages where chasing children and running a chaotic household was no longer something they worried with.

"I'm getting old, Jack." Melissa rested her chin on his shoulder, looking up at him. The wine glass rested on her thigh, held in place by her hand with her other arm curled around his.

Jackson just laughed softly, clearly amused and raised the glass to his lips, taking a sip of his own wine before looking down at his wife. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head; "Oh my Sweet Melissa, you are not getting old."

"I'm fifty today, dearest." Melissa reminded him, slipping her arm around his abdomen.

"I was fifty four months ago, Sweetheart." Jackson retorted, pressing another kiss into the top of her head. "Age is all perspective, Bella."

"Perspective?" Melissa inquired, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

"Tell me, Bella, do you feel old?" Jackson stared down at his wife, smiling when she hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head. He tightened his hold on her and took a sip of wine, his eyes sweeping out over the beautifully landscaped yard. "Then, if you don't feel old why do you say you are getting old?"

"Because I am."

"Fifty is only a number, my Sweet Melissa." Jackson reminded her, taking another sip of his wine. "Only a number."

"I guess." Melissa shrugged, sipping her own wine.

"Look at all you've accomplished, Bella." Jackson murmured tenderly, resting his head against hers. "You have thirty commissioned paintings."

A reflective smile illuminated Melissa's face, only accentuated by the soft golden glow of the rapidly setting sun. Her paintings had given Melissa quite a reputation in the world of artistry and often times, museums and charity auctions would commission her pieces to display and often times sell for large sums. While she did usually choose to sell her paintings to charity auctions, several reputable museums currently owned and displayed a few of her pieces. People were drawn the vibrancy and the cheerfulness of her paintings; the feeling of peace and of happiness that her paintings gave.

"That's nothing." Melissa couldn't help the scarlett flush that blossomed on her cheeks and down her neck.

"Nothing? Sweetheart, thirty commissioned paintings is a lot for a woman with two kids." Jackson chuckled at his wife's incredible modesty. "Don't be modest, Sweet Melissa."

"Says the one with the most reputable foster facility for teenagers this side of L.A." Melissa shot back, craning her neck to his kiss his cheek. "Don't be modest, my dear."

"Touchè." Jackson tipped his glass toward her, conceding her point.

"I don't know, Jack." Melissa sighed, still not quite content with her older age. "I just feel like even with all that I've accomplished, it just makes me seem older."

"Older, how?"

"I'm fifty years old. We've raised two kids. I have more paintings in commission than I ever thought I would when I took up the hobby and we've already been married for twenty-six years." Melissa listed everything that she had accomplished both with him and on her own. "I feel like I've already lived an entire lifetime."

"Because that's how long it takes most people to accomplish everything that you've accomplished." Jackson pointed out, absently stroking her hair. "That doesn't make you old, my dear, that just makes you accomplished and determined. If you hadn't been so determined, do you think you'd be where you are right now?"

"Probably not." Melissa shook her head, curling closer to her husband.

"If you weren't so determined, we probably wouldn't be sitting here." Jackson tightened his hold on his wife. "You're a strong, passionate, determined woman. One of the many reasons I fell in love with you."

"Oh really?" Melissa grinned coyly at him. "What were the other reasons?"

"Oh we'd be here all night, Bella." Jackson laughed, meeting her eyes. "I fall in love with you all over again everyday. I see parts of you in our children. I see you in Alex's eyes and the way he carries himself with such confidence. I see you in Luci's personality. The hot tempered little girl with the heart of gold. I see the little piece of yourself you put in every one of your paintings."

"Jack - "

"My Sweet Melissa," Jackson interrupted, wanting to finish. "When I look at you, your age is not what I see. I see a woman who has been through hell and come out stronger. I see everything that made me fall in love with you. I don't see someone who's fifty. I see someone who's lived her life without caring what others thing. I see the passion and the determination that makes you who are. I see the beautiful woman that I fell in love with when I was just sixteen."

"Sixteen, eh?" Melissa smiled, already knowing his answer.

"Sixteen." Jackson affirmed tenderly. "There was no exact time but I remember you showing up on the night of your sixteenth birthday. Your hair was a mess, you weren't wearing shoes or a jacket despite the cold, your dress was torn and you brought me some birthday cake. I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I knew then that I was in love with you."

"The night I knew my parents were getting divorced is the same night my best friend fell in love with me." Melissa pondered with a soft laugh. "Sounds about right."

"Sweetheart," Jackson took both of their glasses and set them down on the table next to the swing before turning back to his wife. "You will never be anything but the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Ever. You are my best friend. Have been since we were kids. That will never change. Yes, you are fifty years old today but that doesn't matter to me. I don't see your age, I just see you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I know." Melissa smiled, "I'm being silly."

"Yes, you are but you wouldn't be my sweet Melissa if you weren't a little bit silly." Jackson smiled tenderly, leaning down to capture her lips with his.

It comforted her to know that no matter what age she was or what she looked like, her husband would still be in love with her no matter what. She cupped his face with her hands, bringing him closer, reveling in the warmth of her husband's kiss and the slight fruity tang of the wine. She smiled when she felt his arms slip around her body and pull her into him. She couldn't help but sigh when she melded into his strong, muscular body. With a coy smile, she stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him up. She grabbed the bottle of wine from the table and pulled him into the house. Her flirtatious nature hadn't disappeared in the years that they had been married and for that he was glad.

Perhaps, Melissa mused as he pressed her against the wall and trailed hot kisses down her neck, her husband was right.

Age was really a matter of perspective.

* * *

**This was new. Like a whole new ballgame for me but it let me soften the characters around the edges. They're not so sharply edged that everything moves at a faster pace. They don't have to necessarily have short, quick banter-y conversations. They can have longer, more thoughtful conversations. I got the idea of aging them a little bit from letting my sister borrow my copy of Nights in Rodanthe. The couple in that movie is older but they act like love-sick teenagers. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. Leave me some love, if you did, my lovelies! **

**Love you, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove **


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